


Not without you

by Anonymous



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Childbirth, Coma, Did I say angst?, Hurt Brian, Like Whoa, M/M, Major Character Injury, Maylor - Freeform, Mpreg, Sad pregnant Rog and heroic hurt Bri, Swearing, Why Did I Write This?, forgive me Father for I have sinned, like really long and drawn out, pregnant Roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 14:12:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's been an accident. Roger and his baby are fine, but Brian's in a coma.It's very hard to deal with. Roger feels he's breaking into little pieces.





	1. Angry at the fucking sun

It was really sunny and Roger hated it, with every fiber of his being. He wanted to fucking sucker punch the sun for daring to shine on a day like that. For making people happy when there was nothing to be happy about. Fuck the flowers and the people going to the swimming pool with smiles on their faces. Fuck every sun-kissed smile and fuck each and every ice cream that was bringing joy to people. Fuck the birds singing and fuck everyone saying that today was such a good day. Fuck them all. Roger hated everything, so much. He hated happiness.

He was supposed to be happy, apparently, despite certain recent horrible events. All of this tension and frustration and anger, couldn't be good for anyone. “Get out, try to be happy, sunbathe for a while, hang out with people.” they would say “If not for you, for the baby”. Roger hated them all, almost as much as he hated the sun (which was a whole fucking lot), and wonder how the fuck was he supposed to forget what's happened, forget its consequences and just go sunbathe because that would be good for the baby. Those people have no right to tell him what he's supposed to do, to order him around because they know what's best for him. Fuck them. He'll do whatever he wants, baby or no baby. And he most definitely didn't want to go out in the sun.

Roger wanted it to be dark and rainy, for there to be thunder and hurricane level winds and people whose umbrellas were turned inside out and flew away, and they got drenched and hated everything. He wanted incessant rain, and dark clouds and wind of such high speeds, of such strength that it made the windows shake. He wanted the weather to be as angry as he was, even if he knew that that the weather matching his stormy mood wouldn't change anything, wouldn't be of any help. But it would be one less thing to be angry about.

He wasn't just angry about the weather, he was also angry about those well meaning people, angry at every little present for the baby, angry at all the cuteness and all the well wishing friends, angry at himself and all the people surrounding him. How could he be anything else? How could he move on, how could he be happy, how could he enjoy life and go out in the sun, how when Brian was next to him, eyes closed, intubated and in a coma. He wasn't even breathing on his own, he was barely clinging to life.

There had been a multiple car crash and they had been, unfortunately, behind a truck that was transporting some huge metal beams that weren't all that well attached to the place where they were supposed to be, and moved away and into them were the truck crashed into the car in front of him. They had been extremely lucky that no one was irrevocably dead. Extremely lucky.

Roger didn't remember much. Just screaming and Brian taking him out of the way, away from a beam that was coming directly at him. He hadn't been able to react, to get out in time. It had been Brian who had reacted in time, and now he was the one paying the price.

He woke up in the ambulance. Dazed and disoriented, muttering loudly about his baby, about how was his baby, Brian's name painful in his lips. (My baby... is he dead... Brian... Brian! Please, I need to know... My baby...) the paramedics informed him – and calmed him down – that the baby was fine, despite the shock, that there wouldn't be any lasting damage. “He's doing better than you, actually.” Yes, because somehow, “miraculously” (it hadn't been a miracle, it had been Brian) Roger hadn't been seriously injured – he just had a gash on his forehead, a sprained wrist from falling badly and some shock. Nothing that wouldn't be cured, he was going to be all right.

He and the baby were going to be ok because Brian had taken them away from the path of that beam and had fucking shielded Roger with his own body. It had been a matter of seconds, and Roger had been completely frozen in place, but Brian had somehow managed to get him out of the way and protect him so well that he'd barely been injured, while he was at death's door, not even able to breathe on his own.

Brian hadn't been expected to survive, spent an entire week in critical condition in the ICU, where visits were limited. In that week Roger thrashed practically every room in his house. The neighbors called the police because of his screaming, and the officers just found an angelic looking pregnant man who felt completely shattered. It had been a really bad week, made even worse by all those people telling him to say goodbye to Brian, some last words. Roger threw hot beverages and medical equipment at them.

Against all odds, Brian was able to pull through, at least partially. He was moved out of the ICU and into a coma ward, were visiting hours were practically all hours. The damage was too extensive for him to wake up soon and he'd been intubated, but even them, there was still hope. Even if there was only a 0.00001% chance of him waking up, he would hold on to that. Because most of the damage had been to his torso and legs, his face was still the beautiful thing it had always been. Long and majestic, with those curls drawing a halo on his pillow. It looked like he was sleeping, but he never woke up, never moved. They'd had so many good times sleeping together...

Now Roger was living a fucking nightmare, each and every day trapped in it. Against the advice of everyone (doctors, nurses, his friends and family...) he spent practically the whole time in that coma ward, sitting every day next his unconscious husband, pushing away everybody who came and tried to get him far from that heartbreaking sight. “There's life beyond him.” they would say. “You have a baby to think about” (and now you'll have raise to him on your own, it went unsaid, but it hurt.)

The band was put on hold. Freddie gave out an statement saying that their beloved guitarist was in critical condition, and that they couldn't go on until he was recovered. Freddie and John received a ton of requests and a ton of guitarists at their door, hoping to fill Brian's space. Roger hated them, all of them leeches. Freddie hated them too, and John hated them with a passion.

There were a few people that Roger tolerated and John was one of them. He'd been sitting on the front of the car when... it happened.

“I saw what happened – I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it. I close my eyes and it's still there. The beam was going directly at you, it would have impaled you to the car, broken you in half, Roger. It was directed to your heart and the baby's head, you would both be dead. Brian did the right thing, and I'm sure that if he could do it over, he would do the same. If he goes, it will be a honorable death. He'll die a hero.”

John's words cut deeper than anything else, because there was more truth in them than in anything else that he had heard in those last few weeks. This had been a conscious decision of Brian's, something he had done willingly, something he had done knowing perfectly well that it might cost him his life. Brian would sacrifice himself again for him, and over and over and over. He wouldn't even think about it, just close his eyes and hope that his lover would be okay, that Roger would make it, even if he couldn't, even if they never saw each other again.

And yes, it was a good death, but Roger couldn't bear the thought of going through everything that was coming the one he loved most. Without the love of his life.

He wouldn't be alone, he knew, he still had his family, and he would have the support of Brian's family, and he had John and Freddie... He had enough friends and family, and he was sure that Queen fans too would send send gifts and record songs, and do everything they could to try and lessen Roger's grief and welcome his baby into the world. It was a lot, and he was very lucky to have all that... It should be enough. More than enough, even. But he couldn't, wouldn't cope without Brian by his side. He needed him to breathe, he was a part of Roger.

Now he couldn't stop thinking about all the wasted time. It had taken him a long time for him to accept his feelings for Brian, and even longer to do something about it. Why had he waited so long? Roger remembers pushing him away because he didn't want to admit that he was in love with his best friend. He remembers being mean to Brian, he remembers all the fights. It had taken them so long to be where they were, to get married, to be in a good enough place to try for a kid, so many sleepless nights, so much arguing... Roger had even cheated on Brian a couple of times. Felt horrible afterwards, but he had. He was the furthest him from a perfect husband, and Brian... Brian had practically given his life for him.

Roger knew that he couldn't stay there, sitting beside that bed, forever. His due date was fast approaching and he hadn't done anything about it, it hadn't mattered to him. Hadn't gone to any preparation classes, hadn't organised anything. Other people knew every little detail about childbirth and what to do in each moment, in each case. Roger just wished that it wouldn't be soon, that the baby would stay put even after it was supposed to be born. He really was in no shape to go through such an ordeal as that. He couldn't, wouldn't, didn't want to. Not without Brian.

The baby's room (as well as many other things) had been finished by Freddie and his own sister, who weren't as horrible as other people, and accepted that Roger wanted to stay by Brian's bed for the foreseeable future. Which was good, because Roger didn't feel like doing anything baby related. Having a child and doing baby things was supposed to be joyful and happy, a source of great times and smiles. He felt him kick, and wished Brian was there to feel it. He felt the baby move inside his belly, and wanted to cry. Because this was Brian's child, his baby, and Brian wasn't there. So he would stay there, angry at the whole world while it kept on turning.

Roger wanted to hold on to his anger because if he didn't... He would be accepting that Brian was gone, that he wasn't coming back, that he would have to live the rest of his life without him. Life would continue, he would have this kid and maybe more and there would only be occasional mentions to Brian and flowers in his grave once every year. He would live on, and Brian wouldn't be there.

Roger could see the whole horror unfolding: first they would have to unplug him from all those machines that were keeping him alive, and in a matter of minutes Brian would die. His heart would stop beating, there would no more breath, no more anything. He would be dead and there would be a funeral, and lots of people would come, maybe from all over the world, to say goodbye to Brian, mentioning what a good man he was. Too fucking good, Roger thought, so fucking good that he'd been too good for the world, that got rid of him way too soon. And people wouldn't know if they should give Roger condolences or congratulations, because for a lot it would be the first time they'd meet the baby, but also were saying goodbye to Brian. Roger would hate all of them and his kind words. To hell with them.

“You still have your son to remember him by” They would say, and he would be supposed to find solace in that.

Fuck them, and fuck those words. He didn't want to remember Brian, he wanted him whole, he wanted to live with him, he wanted to be him. Experience him, touch him, fuck him. Not tear up because a baby was pointing at the stars and he was reminded of the man he'd loved and lost. That was not fair.

And how was the baby going to be any comfort? Every time he saw him he would think about how Brian never got to meet him, to teach him all those he had wanted to. Brian would never get to hold him, to take pictures of him (“I'm gonna take a million pictures of both of you, Rog, and you can't stop me”)... This baby boy would never get to meet one of the most fascinating people on Earth, the one person that had saved his life. This boy would always have a dead parent, somebody he never met, a heroic stranger. Hell, Roger may even up resenting this kid, however subconsciously, because when the accident happened, they had been going home because they had a checkup. This wouldn't happen if Brian was still around.

Roger would try to make this boy know about Brian showing him videos and songs, but it was going to be really tough. He would never know his father, and Brian had wanted this so much... He had been concerned about not being a good parent, but had wanted this. A lot. And now....

Roger didn't know which option he hated more, the one where he ended up being a bitter old man whose only joy was to look at old pictures because he had never been able to look at anyone with love again, or the one where he did find someone else and Brian's presence faded, and his boy called dad to this new person, because it was the only father he knew (No, no this option was much worse. Brian couldn't, shouldn't and wouldn't be replaced).

Sometimes, something Freddie said brought a spark of joy.

“You're all alive! All three of you. And if he hadn't done that... Well, you and that baby would be dead, and how long do you think Brian would last knowing he hadn't anything to prevent that? He wouldn't be able to recover. Not even the best suicide watch would stop him from joining you. We would have lost all three of you, and it would a be a tragedy no one would forget. But this... there's still hope. He can still wake up, he can still meet his son.”

Roger squeezed his husband's hand with new resolve.

“Do you hear that, Bri? You can still come back, we can still be a family. I want you to meet the little one, I want you here. With me, with him. I just... I can't do this, love. Not without you.”

Two perfect tears fell on Brian's still face. There was no movement. And still...

The world kept turning.

The sun still shone.

 


	2. Coming

 

“...No.”

It started off as a faint stomachache, but it's been progressively getting worse. Now there were sharp twinges on the lower part of his belly and Roger understood that he was having contractions. No matter how much he tried to deny it, no matter how much he refused to give birth alone, this was what was happening. He was in labour, and there was no stopping it.

He didn't want to do this alone, for so many reasons. Most of all, he didn't want all the happiness that was going to come with it. Seeing his son, holding him... He was going to be filled with love and adoration and it was not fair. It was not fair that the only person still angry at Brian's situation would move on, would be happy despite not having his love with him. He wanted to be angry and sad because hell, at this point he seemed to be the only one left that cared. No, he wanted to stay by Brian's bedside, still talking to him, still able to be sad, because his husband was in a fucking coma.

Everyone was going to be so happy when they saw the baby, everyone would forget everything else. They would tell Roger that the kid was wonderful, that they were so happy for him, that he looked like him already. They would take pictures, and look at him and the baby in awe, tell him that they thought he was the most beautiful baby in the world and that they were so happy that everything had gone all right. But everything hadn't fucking gone all right, there was someone in a coma who was never going to be able to hold his child. That wasn't fucking right.

Brian deserved more than that. He deserved the fucking world, after all the troubles he'd gone through, after all the ups and downs, after all the things he'd helped Roger through. He'd had so many terrible things in his life, words shouted at him, people calling him arrogant, pompous, a haughty fucking idiot (that was one of Roger's) and still, in spite of all the sharp words of others, despite all the bad words he had told himself, he who was his own worst critic, he had endured.

He'd been there for Freddie's crazy antics and let the singer dress him in any he pleased. He had been there in many of Roger's tantrums and anger bursts, and still loved him. He had heard Deaky's cold words at his music and him, and still had been civil and measured. Sure, Brian wasn't perfect, nobody was. Sometimes he could be a bit too full of himself, too vain. He judged others harshly for things that then he often did himself. But... but he was his love, he was one of the most important people in Roger's life, and he didn't deserve to be abandoned like this.

Because that was what was going to happen, wasn't it? He wouldn't be able to go visit Brian more than an hour, maybe even less per day, when the baby was here. First he would have to recover from the birth, then he would have to be up on all hours looking after his son... He would have so many things to deal with like registering the baby, and all the things he was supposed to know about newborns but had no idea, because he'd spent the last two months of his pregnancy in a coma ward.

He kissed his husband's hand, while two tears fell. He didn't want to let go, he didn't want to leave.

“You have to come back for this, my love. You have to meet him. Don't...”

Another contraction interrupted his speech, and Roger closed his eyes in pain. He was trying to muffle the screams because he didn't want to be taken away, not yet. Not until he got Brian back, somehow.

But it was getting harder. The contractions were getting more painful and happening more often now, closer to each other. The thought of having to give birth... Scared Roger, and hurt him. He had held on to the hope that Brian would be there, he had imagined his husband with him in the delivery room, holding his hand through the pain, telling him how well he was doing, smiling that toothy smile of his when the baby was born, proud, happy, enormous and tall as a tower holding the tiny baby. The product of their love. But it was actually the other way round: it was Roger holding his husband's hand, hoping for a reaction, for something. Nobody was going to be there when the baby was born.

(This was Roger's decision, he knew. He could have had someone else, family or a close friend with him. But he'd been saving that spot for Brian. It was him or nobody)

Roger was in so much pain... It hurt to even think. And he knew that this was only going to get worse, that this pain was going to be nothing compared to the last parts of the birth. This was only the beginning, and he was going to go through all of this, hours and hours of indescribable pain without him on the other side. The pain in his body only shadowing the pain in his heart. He needed to know that Brian would be okay to go through this, he couldn't do it any other way. He couldn't breathe, couldn't push, couldn't do any of it. It was... too much.

Roger put his husband's cold hand on his enormous belly, hoping for... something.

“Brian, love, the baby's.... the baby is coming. I need you for this, ok? I need you. I can't otherwise, please, please, don't let me leave you like this...”

He was actively sobbing now, because he knew what was going to happen. Someone was going to take him away, and it could be days until he saw Brian again. They would tell him to let him go, to say goodbye, because he was only a distraction, something that was hurting him. Because there was no room for hope. They would tell him that the presence on that bed was not Brian anymore, that Brian was gone. That he'd been a great man, an amazing musician and that he would have been a great father... But that wasn't going to happen.

He had to let go, and Roger probably would. He would know that he could do anything – if he had been able to give birth without Brian, the rest of the things would feel easier. He would know that he could pull through, and he would know that he had more important things to tend to. But no matter how happy he would get because their son was there, no matter how strong and hardened he became now that he had to do everything by himself, it would still hurt. Because no matter how many good things happened, Brian would still be dead. He would always be dead.

And it hurt, because Roger would always know that Brian was dead because of him. Sure, it had been Brian's decision, and he wasn't to blame of course, but the facts were that Brian had lost his life to be able to save Roger's (and the baby's). This couldn't fucking stand.

There was another contraction, really fucking painful and Roger bit his lower lip so hard it bled. He took Brian's hand on his own and looked at the figure in the bed with determination. The time for tears and _please_ s was over. Now this sleeping idiot was going to hear him. He held on to Brian's hand with one hand, the other firmly on his belly. This baby wasn't going anywhere until Brian was back.

“Look Brian, things have changed a lot between us with the years, but if there's something I know is that you don't like to see me hurt. And now I am in so much pain, Brian, you won't believe it, it's... impossible, it's the worst pain I've ever felt. And you're not there for me, YOU'RE NOT HERE FOR ME! What kind of husband are you, what kind of father? I need you.”

The only sound that could be heard was the beeping of the machines, and his loud breathing.

“I don't want to do this without you, don't make me do this without you, HELP ME, BRIAN, I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN!”

He moaned and felt something wet coming down. Apparently his water broke. This was it, wasn't it?

Roger put his head, still crossed by tears and so very tired, on Brian's chest.

“The baby is coming, Brian. He's nearly here. And I'm hurting real bad and I'm going to have to...”

He closed his eyes, muffled a scream, squeezed strongly Brian's hand with his own – the contractions were extremely strong now-..... and something squeezed back.

Could it be real? No, he was just imagining things, wasn't he?

“Brian?”

The hand squeezed again, and softly but surely, the hazel eyes opened – and looked at him. The machines were screaming loud noises, but Roger didn't care. When the next contraction came, he had Brian's hand to help him through it, and everything seemed to be suddenly a million times better.

Roger kissed that hand.

“I'll be back soon, my love. We will be back soon.”

Now was the time to ask for help.

“I need... My baby's coming.”

It was long, and it was painful. Although he had spent most of his labour in that bedside (the doctors were amazed that he lasted so long without anyone noticing, without screaming out, without any pain medication), the next part was the worst, because the pain was even more intense, because the pain didn't stop, because it was the worst thing he'd ever felt, or would ever feel. He didn't know if he would have been able to weather this if he hadn't seen those eyes.. If he hadn't felt that hand squeezing his own.

But now...

Now he was the strongest person on Earth.

“Push!”

His back arched, and he let out an agonizing scream, but even if the pain was excruciating, Roger pushed.

After so long being angry and sad, Roger felt... powerful. He'd managed to get Brian to come back, and he was bringing this little person into the world.

“Again!”

The scream was terrifying, his pain a fucking torture, but he pushed, again.

There was a little smile, and he closed his eyes, his sweat soaked face content. He could make it, his baby would make it, Brian was going to make it. He pushed one final time.

He heard some faint crying,the cries of a baby.

The baby had come. He'd made it.

 

*

 

Brian had trouble... remembering.

He'd only known that they were in the car, and that he'd moved Roger away from that beam, from that certain death. And then... nothing. A blank.

Until he heard Roger saying that he needed him, that he was in pain. He can faintly remember (or did he imagine everything?) Roger's blue eyes looking at him, his hand on his own. There were three broken fingers on his left hand, so maybe he hadn't invented that part. They toook out that horrible machine on his throat. People were talking to him – they put him on a sitting position, flashed a light in his eyes, told him to follow it.

They moved him out of the coma ward, and into some rehabilitation recovery place. Brian was just glad to be awake, to know where he was, to see. It felt as if he had been sleeping for a thousand years, and it wasn't pleasant. As it wasn't pleasant having all those doctors around, looking at him as if he were some sort of freak of nature.

They talked about “miracle” and “impossible” and “record recovery”. Brian couldn't still move all of him, but he could move his hands and feet, and his head. And he was very very close to being able to speak again. Which he needed, because he had to ask where Roger was, if he was okay. The last time he saw him in the car he'd been in danger, the last time he thinks he saw him in the hospital he seemed to be in great pain. What about the baby? He wanted to know what happened.

Luckily, some hours later he received a visit.

A nurse was bringing Roger, who was in a wheelchair and... wasn't alone.

There was a tiny baby boy in his arms, covered in blankets.

“Hello, love. Want to meet your son?”

Brian tried to talk, but could only watch – Roger looked absolutely beautiful and the baby was a marvel. And this was his family, this wonder of people.

“You saved us, Brian. You saved him and me, and if that wasn't enough, you came back when I needed you. Thank you so much, my love.”

Brian's eyes were teary and with what little mobility he had, he stroked Roger's face.

“Lo...ve.... you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

They would get on with their lives now, without all that mourning, without all those horrors. It may be raining outside, but for Roger the entire world was made of sunshine. It wouldn't be easy, dealing with a newborn baby, helping Brian go back to being functional after such a long coma... But they would make it.

They would recover, look after their son, eventually go back to making music. They were alive, all Queen members, and now their family was even bigger. Roger would face all the challenges of this new time in his life... But not without the love of his life.

Not without him. 


End file.
